Jacqueline Baird - Mediterranean Tycoons - Wealthy & Wicked

‘You men know nothing about modeling, Jed,’ Sophia teased, hanging on to his arm. ‘Phoebe is much too big to be a model. They are all reed-thin, coat hanger types.’

Phoebe stopped feeling slightly sorry for Sophia, having a ruthless, arrogant devil like Jed for a boyfriend. A misnomer if ever she had heard one. She decided they made a

good match. Hidden behind the false smile and big brown eyes the woman was a bitch—with a huge bum, she thought rather cattily, not like her at all.

Phoebe had put on a couple of pounds in the past five years, though no one could call her fat. She taught physical education as well as history, and was well toned if slightly bigger in the chest. But there was a very good reason for that, and not one she wanted this pair to discover.

‘Your girlfriend is so right.’ She addressed Jed, but looked at Sophia. ‘Actually, I teach history at a girls’ school near my home,’ she informed them. Then, picking up her glass from the bar, she took a sip of juice and wished she had never let Julian persuade her to come to the ball.

‘History, Phoebe? An interesting subject. Which do you prefer to teach? Ancient or modern?’ Jed asked, with a sardonic arch of a black brow.

The damn man was baiting her again, and she could not help it—she flashed him a fulminating look. ‘Both.’

‘Wise of you. Past history can teach us a lot about people,’ he drawled.

Was she the only one who heard the cynicism in his tone? ‘I’m pretty sure there is not much anyone could teach you ,’ Phoebe snapped, and stopped. Oh, hell! Why couldn’t she have kept her big mouth shut? They were all looking at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. Maybe she had. Jed Sabbides had always had that effect on her. But she knew him for what he was and she hated the man.

Julian’s hearty laugh broke the moment. ‘Ah, Phoebe, I take back what I said about you joining the Foreign Office.’ His arm came around her shoulders. ‘You would never make a diplomat.’ The three Greeks smiled rather conde-scendingly, Phoebe thought.

‘You say what you think—a fatal flaw in a member of the diplomatic corps.’ Julian dipped his head and brushed his lips lightly against hers. ‘But in every other respect you are flawless, Phoebe,’ he added.

For a brief moment Jed Sabbides was stunned by the sudden surge of anger he felt as Julian Gladstone kissed Phoebe. Five years since he had last seen her, since he had returned to find she had left him, taking everything he had given her and the cat…

He hadn’t been pleased at the time, but after what had happened between them he hadn’t been surprised and had moved on, taking it for granted she had done the same. Phoebe was nothing to him now, he told himself. But he could not resist teasing her, wondering how long she could keep up the lie about not knowing him.

Yet seeing another man actually kiss Phoebe had stirred a primitive proprietorial instinct in him he had thought long gone. And she was wearing diamonds he had gifted her, which somehow offended him even more—though she had certainly earned them. He had never had such a sexually compatible bed partner before or since Phoebe, and the realisation dented his firm control.

‘I remember where I saw you, Phoebe.’ Jed was no longer amused, but angered by her denial of him, and dropped all pretence. ‘You were working as a receptionist in a hotel I stayed at once. You were a student at the time, I believe.’ Let her wriggle her way out of that one.

‘That’s possible, I suppose,’ she offered. ‘I did once work part-time in a hotel, but a lot of people pass through a hotel reception and I don’t remember all of them.’ Implying he was not memorable…

The elegant woman now standing before him was the opposite of the innocent wanton Jed remembered. The silver-grey silk gown clung to her every curve, and the high heels she wore added to her above average height. She looked at him with cool blue eyes and, knowing he had been insulted, he reluctantly had to admire her defiant response. He did not remember Phoebe being so feisty in the past.

‘Come on, Jed.’ Sophia grabbed his arm. ‘The band is playing our tune—let’s dance.’

‘Yes, of course,’ he said, glancing down at Sophia, his anger abating and his control restored. He realised a trifle ironically that Phoebe enraged him but the woman he intended asking to marry him did the opposite—she left him cold.

He led Sophia on to the dance floor and held her close. The music was slow, her head was resting on his chest and he was content to leave her that way. It avoided his having to talk and gave him time to think.

He never usually attended this kind of gathering, but as Sophia had asked him and she was the ambassador’s daughter he had agreed. They were staying at the embassy tonight, and he had decided it would be a good opportunity to do the conventional thing and ask her father for her hand in marriage before proposing.

Sophia was an attractive woman, well known for her voluntary work as a fundraiser for numerous charities in Athens. She was also a family friend and Greek, so she knew what was expected from a Greek wife, and if she was a bit stocky from the waist down he could live with that. She had good child-bearing hips—or so he had thought half an hour ago…

Sophia and her father had been opening the dancing, and he had stood at the top of the staircase, a glass of champagne in his hand. He had taken a sip and glanced idly around the room and stiffened, his dark eyes narrowing on the striking looking couple stopped in the middle of the dance floor.

The stem of the champagne glass had shattered in his fingers. But Jed had dismissed the hovering waiter’s concern, his eyes fixed on the couple. The man was tall and blond and the woman in his arms was Phoebe…There was no mistake. Her image was engraved in his mind for all time. Phoebe Brown…

Her fair hair was swept severely back from her face, revealing her exquisite features, her head was tilted back and she was smiling up at her companion. His intent gaze had followed the slender line of her throat down to the creamy curves of her breasts, the tantalising cleavage shown to advantage by the halter-style long dress she was wearing. He had shoved his hand into his pants pocket, surprised by the stirring of arousal he had felt looking at her. But then she had always had that affect on him, and seemingly nothing had changed…

He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. Her partner spun her around and Jed had noted her once shoulder-length hair was much longer, and cascaded in gleaming waves down her back to end a few inches short of her narrow waist. Then he’d recognised something.

The diamond clip in the shape of a butterfly holding the sides of her hair at the crown of her head was a present he had given her. At the beginning of their affair he had teased her about shoving her hair behind her ears and fastening it with a rubber band. It was the first piece of jewellery he had bought her, and she had taken it with all the rest when she had left the apartment.

He had told himself at the time they were gifts, little enough for what she had gone through, and dismissed her from his mind. So why now was he bothered at seeing her wearing his gift when she was with another man? They were close—it was obvious by their body language. Almost certainly lovers, maybe even man and wife.

For some reason he did not question too deeply why he wanted to know. Then he’d seen his soon-to-be fiancée and her father approach, and forced a smile to his lips. Feigning a mild interest in the tall blond man with a few judicious questions to the ambassador, he’d discovered a lot about him.

Apparently Julian Gladstone was a wealthy landowner, and a fast rising star in the Foreign Office, known for his brilliant linguistic skills. The ambassador knew little about Phoebe, but he’d offered to introduce Gladstone, saying Jed would like the man—everyone did…